The Star I Saw
by Tobi Is My Name
Summary: Joe is a bully, there is no doubt about that, but if one boy can have a clockwork heart and still fall in love, can't a boy with a heart of stone as well? The story of the Cuckoo-Clock Heart from Joe's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Everyone focuses on Jack and Miss Acacia's romance but . . . is everyone forgetting that she did send Joe birthday cards and letters? There's a reason for that so I'm going to do my best to tell that side of the story, Joe's side. RnR please.**

It had all been so much better before _he _came around! At least it had felt as such . . . Joe, short for Joseph Douglas, had everything he should want. He was from a well-to-do family going to a good school, he was taller than everyone else and bigger than everyone else and he had a girlfriend!

And not just any little bird, no, his Miss Acacia was not only beautiful but her voice made him melt! On the inside anyway, Joe knew better than to show anything on the outside.

He was often surprised by Miss Acacia's affections, not that he thought he didn't deserve them, just that they caught him off-guard most of the time.

Joe had started bullying her like any of the other children; he desired control of his surroundings so naturally he wanted control over the school children and courtyard; pushing and scaring his way into the comfortable position of top-dog. Miss Acacia, however, was different, she didn't listen to his snide remarks and smiled every time he dumped her books onto the ground or took those glasses she frequently wore.

He remembered it well, the day he couldn't find it in him to try and bully her anymore, he took her glasses and held them up high and she punched him right in the gut. It hadn't hurt, Joe had taken worse hits from grown adults so a little girl half his size was nowhere near harming him, but it had dislodged something inside Joe, something he couldn't explain and then her thorns had bristled from nothing and he was smitten.

"I don't want them anyway, so you can keep them!"

And with that she had turned on her heels and stomped up to the schoolhouse, leaving Joe stunned and unable to comprehend why he wasn't laughing at her retreating back or why he was clutching the decidedly bent and abused pair of specs to his chest. He fled from the yard that day and went about trying to understand what had happened.

" . . . the witch cast a spell on me." He concluded and pushed it from his thoughts.

Joe had half-a-mind to throw the glasses in a storm drain but chose to pocket them instead without really understanding why.

* * *

Joe soon found it difficult to push his dominance on Miss Acacia, every time he opened his mouth to make a remark or pick up a rock for throwing, he'd falter and his mind would go blank.

One day in particular stood out as the day Joe finally broke, he was having a bad week; the black eye he'd been sporting made others cringe and gave him a bad mood all around so he was ready to pick on anyone small and stupid enough to get in his way and of course it had to be her.

Joe shoved Miss Acacia forward so she fell on her hands and knees, dropping her books and causing everyone to stop and watch.

Joe heaved every breath and readied himself for what he was about to say, his mouth opened and he was just gathering the syllables together when the girl started to do something that shocked him so badly that he almost fell backward.

Miss Acacia began to cry.

And not just sniffles or whimpers, those were something Joe was used to eliciting from others, no this was full-blown sobbing. Miss Acacia hugged herself, her thorns coiled around her arms and neck and she sobbed like her heart was broken. And before Joe could make up his mind as to what to do, she turned her teary eyes at him with so much anger and hurt there, and she just looked at him while her scraped knees pressed into the cobblestone.

The bell sounded and everyone else ran to the building but Joe and Miss Acacia. They just stared at each other in a battle of wills with Acacia sobbing her anger and Joe staring slack-jawed and unable to comprehend any of this. It went on for a minute or two then she finally spoke,

"Why?" She asked so quietly that Joe felt himself lean forward to hear better.

"Why . . . ?" He repeated dumbly.

She nodded, "Answer me."

Joe blinked then straightened himself up, glaring down at her as he remember that _he _was the one in a foul mood and _he _was the one that needed to feel better, not her.

"You're small and weak and-"

"I'm not asking why you pushed me, that much was obvious." Acacia slowly gathered her books and wiped at her eyes.

"Then what are you asking?" Joe snarled and crossed his arms, "Stupid, little-"

"Why did he hit you this time?" She bowled right over him but was able to keep her voice low so no one else would hear.

Joe's mouth opened to ask 'who?' but then he realized. Miss Acacia _knew_.

They sat on a fence toward the outskirts of town, Miss Acacia and Joe, together. Sitting on a fence. He glanced slowly at her and all the times he'd wanted to push her down or say something nasty seemed so pointless.

"You didn't answer my question." Acacia pointed out, running her fingers over the spine of one of her books.

Joe looked at her then closed his eyes, she'd chased him all the way out here and he had no idea why she'd followed him in the first place,

"You already know." Joe murmured, tilting his head back, "I don't think I need to go into any more detail than that."

" . . . is that why you're such a bully?" Acacia's voice was so soft and kind . . .

Joe bit his lip a little then composed his face, "I'm not a bully."

"Bullies push others around and hurt people to feel better about themselves. You're a bully."

"He's a bully. Not me. I just want control, stability. I want to be in charge." Joe opened his eyes and looked up at the Scottish sun, bright but so cold.

" . . . Joe."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from it without knowing why then amended that Acacia's hands were cold and she'd startled him and nothing more.

"What?" He asked shortly, not really liking the idea of someone being able to make him nervous.

"Is that why you don't like being touched? Because he hits you?" She scooted closer and Joe immediately got off the fence, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Of course you aren't, I'd snap your arm like a twig if you tried!" Joe took several steps back then stopped and swallowed, " . . . why does he hit me?"

Acacia set her books down and slowly got off the fence, moving cautiously toward Joe, "I don't know . . . I don't know, Joe, but I'm not going to hurt you. It's alright."

Joe made an aborted attempt to evade her but Acacia's hands closed around his and she held on, yet her grip was so slight that he would have easily been able to break away, it would have been so simple to just knock her hands aside and sneer at her but then Joe was kneeling in the dead grass and crying like his life was over while Acacia hugged him.

* * *

"This way." Joe led Acacia several months later through the crowded streets of Edinburgh, it was a festival night so naturally every Tom, Dick, and Harry was out and about.

Acacia clung to Joe's sleeve, normally it was difficult to see without her glasses but with it being nighttime and the overcrowding, she was extra aware of her handicap, "I'd hate to get lost . . . "

"I know." Joe murmured as they made their way through the hustle and bustle out to a backfield where they could easily watch the fireworks, a novelty in these parts reserved for special occasions.

Joe spread out an old blanket and they sat together and waited. After a few moments and much glancing to see if she was paying attention, Joe slid closer to Acacia, still she didn't stir, so Joe stretched out his hand and brought it down next to hers on the blanket. His heart was racing and he swallowed but carefully moved it closer until their fingers touched, Acacia started and slowly looked at Joe but didn't stop him so he carefully wrapped his long fingers around her tiny hand, holding it like a precious, baby bird.

He opened his mouth to say something but the first firework went off and he yelped in surprise, causing him to blush in embarrassment. Luckily it was dark so the bright red splotches went unnoticed on his otherwise pallid skin. Acacia only giggled then gave her own little shriek at the next one, her thorns materialized and she leapt across the blanket and clung onto Joe.

Joe's eyes widened and he let go of her hand in surprise then relaxed as the color and light faded from the sky and Acacia looked away bashfully,

"Sorry, it startled me."

"It . . . " Joe cleared his throat and had to shout as a volley of fireworks went off, "It's alright."

Acacia looked up at Joe then scooted closer so that her back was pressing into his chest, Joe swallowed and then tentatively put his arms around her protectively, feeling an odd fluttering in his chest and wondering if perhaps he was coming down with something but quickly dismissed the thought when Acacia ooh-ed and aah-ed along with the rest of the crowd and he was able to forget everything when she put her hand up to clasp his arm and all was right with the world for the briefest most fleeting of moments.

* * *

Then she was just . . . gone.

Joe stood dumbfounded at the empty house and clutched at the note in his hand, it was a message from Acacia saying that she would write and that he meant so much to her and that she would never forget his birthday or to visit . . . but she had to go. Don't worry. I love you.

The fluttering that had occupied Joe's heart for so long was suddenly gone and left in its place was a heavy, agonizing weight; his songbird, his sunshine, his spring was gone and all that remained was a desolate winter.

Joe gasped as his lungs struggled to find a way to guide air past a mysterious lump in his throat and he fled, bumping into people and things but not stopping until he reached his home.

He stopped and quickly put the note in his pocket again and straightened his clothes, with a stiff upper lip and neutral facial expression, he entered the house he'd lived in all his life. Joe carefully made it to the staircase of the large house and was about to walk up the stairs and find sanctuary and privacy in his own room when the door to his immediate left opened and firelight poured onto the carpet, illuminating him and he was certain his shadow was trembling as much as he was.

"Where have you been?"

Joe swallowed and slowly looked around to see his father framed in the doorway, "I was just out for a walk, Papa."

Alistair Douglas, owner of a successful shipping company, looked down his short nose at his son, he was a full two heads taller than Joe and quite a bit wider, his graying black hair was slicked back and his blue-green eyes narrowed almost to slits, he pointed behind him to the study,

"Get in here, now."

Joe followed his father into the room and waited while the door closed and locked behind him, then he watched his father move to sit behind his desk next to the lit fire,

"I'll ask ya again, boy, where were you?"

Joe licked his lips and took a slow, nonthreatening breath, "I was just out for a short walk, Papa, I went to the end of the street and came right back."

"Rubbish."

Joe didn't bother to argue, even though this was such a simple conversation, he refrained from opening his mouth. He got hit a lot less when he was quiet.

"I'll tell you where you've been," Alistair stood up and moved to stand in front of the fire, staring into it, "Ya went ta see that little tramp, that dirty, little witch."

Joe ground his teeth in the Herculean effort of not speaking.

"I'll bet my ship on it. Ya went over there, but tell me, did ya find yer little witch?" Alistair turned around slowly, a sick, twisted grin on his face.

Joe was silent for only a moment more before he felt himself cracking inside, " . . . no, Papa."

"No, you didn't," Alistair moved to stand in front of Joe, "And do ya know why?"

Joe shook his head though his large brown eyes were already watering.

"Because a little bird told me they didn't have the proper papers to be in our fine countryside." Alistair put a heavy hand on Joe's shoulder, his grip tight and threatening.

"You . . . you called the police?" Joe's knees shook and the lump reappeared.

Alistair chuckled darkly, "Of course I did, have to protect my dear, wee son from such trash, don't I? Have to make sure he isn't mixing bad blood into our pure pedigree."

Joe's world was falling out from under him, his mouth opened several times but there was nothing to say, his own father had taken his last, precious possession away from him, "How could you . . . ? I loved h-"

Alistair smacked Joe across the face, sending the already weak-kneed boy to the floor, "Ya don't know what love is, you pathetic little waste. Now give me the note I know you have."

Joe shook his head and backed up, bolting for the door but his father was faster, his massive hand clamped down on Joe's shirt and he hoisted the boy back, emptying out his pockets while Joe made a valiant effort to get away. But Alistair deflected each swing and kick as if he was being assailed with raindrops instead of limbs.

Joe howled when the note was finally extracted and he was let go, falling in a heap on the floor while his father held the note over the fire,

"No! No, please, Papa, please, I'll do anything just please let me have that back!" He reached for it but didn't attempt to get closer.

Alistair shook his head and sighed, "You'll thank me one day."

Joe sobbed as the note turned to ash right before his eyes, he didn't make a move to protect himself as his father undid his heavy leather belt or as it whistled through the air and left stinging stripes on his back that would bruise and rise.

* * *

The snow fell and Joe stood waiting expectantly at the end of the walk, this time he'd get the postcard first, this time his father wouldn't be able to burn it! This time it would be his! Joe shivered a little as his breath came from his nose or mouth in a cloud of mist, he was cold and his feet were numb but he would very patient and wait.

"Morning."

Joe turned to see the postman greeting someone down the street, the tall young man quickly made his way to him,

"Do you have anything for a Joe Douglas? Possibly Joseph?" He glanced over his shoulder absently.

"Let me take a look." The postman rifled through his satchel then came up with a card, "Here ya are, Joe Douglas."

Joe quickly took it and ran all the way to the fence where he and Acacia used to sit, once he was there he pulled the card from his inside coat pocket and sat down to look at it. It had a picture of an amusement park on one side and the words 'Happy Birthday!' and 'Miss Acacia' on the other.

Joe felt himself smile just a little and he sighed, putting the card safely in his coat pocket, she had not forgotten him and she was alright. He felt the slight flutter in his chest again, ever so briefly before it disappeared again and he was left empty, but it was enough; enough to remember to breathe and remind him that he was still alive, to remind his heart to beat underneath its stony shell, to remind his lips to smile and his skin to feel warm and he was happy even for the briefest of moments.

* * *

Then _he _came along.

Joe hated him the moment he heard that little ginger bastard asking about his Miss Acacia, who else could he be asking after? Who else in Edinburgh had a lovely voice and tiny feet and hated to wear her glasses? Who else could possibly be so perfect that this _boy_ would run about asking for her? Who else would dare?

He simply would have to put this whelp into his place and that would be that.

**A/N: Maybe I just have a thing for massively tragic characters but yeah, this is where I'm going with this and you can come too if you want because honestly I found Joe and Acacia's love story more . . . compelling, I suppose, in its imperfections and all the things left unsaid there was still a large amount of tenderness on Joe's part, e.g.: on his and Jack's birthday he takes the postcard out and looks at it then completely loses it when Jack takes it and causes the card to rip in half in which he flies into a rage. Why would he do that if he didn't actually care about her at all? Anywho, RnR!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, here it is, Part 2 of this fic! Um, I hope no one was expecting a happy ending because . . . yeah, Joe doesn't get a happy ending, he just isn't that kind of guy, but I tried to let him off as gently as possible. And just so you know, a bit of the dialogue is ripped from the movie because there wasn't a whole lot of just Joe standing around thinking and whatnot, so yeah. RNR!**

Nothing was working! Joe gritted his teeth angrily and in frustration as that horrid little ginger continued to speak of Miss Acacia, constantly as if it was something normal to do when she was _not _Jack's!

Joe blinked back to himself in time to here the horrendous and forced mumbles of the children that his little 'friend' had wrangled into singing his birthday wishes. Despite the idea that the smaller ones had no choice but to sing for him, it didn't give Joe the thrill he'd hoped for, he couldn't help but feel something inside him shifting.

* * *

She'd forgotten.

For the first time in a long time, Acacia had _forgotten_ his birthday.

He'd stood out there with the frost surrounding where he stood, it was an unusually warm winter, no real snowfall yet, so he was alright to wait for the mail carrier.

"You have anything for me? Joseph or Joe Douglas?"

The carrier smiled and rifled through his bag then shook his head, coming up empty,

"Sorry, son, nothing for you."

Joe had gone back in, he had some time before school so he didn't have anything better to do now that he had no excuse to run to his and Acacia's special place and read her short, perfect note wishing him many happy returns.

Joe went to his room, sat on his bed, and cried. His fragile, stony heart throbbed painfully in his chest, cracking just enough that he couldn't feel that bit of warmth she always inspired in him on his one day to feel anything at all! She'd abandoned him, cast him aside, and it was more than he could bear.

The boy sobbed as quietly as he could so his father or mother wouldn't hear, pressing his fists against his mouth until he could taste blood, just to stifle the sound. His world crumbled and he couldn't breathe, he _needed _that birthday card! He _needed _that small glimmer of sunshine in his dark, gray world where he either hurt beyond measure or felt nothing at all.

Then Joe closed his eyes and reached into his coat, pulling out the old postcard, it was worn and creased and faded from how often Joe would pull it out and stare at the letters forming words that reminded him that he was _allowed_ to feel, that there was someone that knew him and wanted him to feel something besides hurt.

But words that once brought comfort now stabbed him in the cracks in his stony heart.

* * *

So Joe listened to the children's half-hearted rendition of the birthday song and when they finished, the bell rang.

Joe turned and, in a manner almost as mechanic as Jack, he started for the door, briefly jostled by some little runt (Whom he would remember to teach a lesson in manners to later.), he grunted and straightened his coat, checking his pocket where he kept the postcard only for his heart to stop.

It had fallen out.

Joe looked around with as much of an air of calm as he could manage, then he looked back and his teeth clenched. Jack had picked it up and was handling _Joe's _postcard. Joe stormed over to the diminutive ginger.

"Give me that card right now." He hissed.

"No, it's my birthday, not yours. It's mine. Happy birthday, signed Miss Acacia. It's to me!" Jack pressed the card to his heart.

"It's my birthday today! You're running late, Big Ben!"

Joe reached for the card and got a hold of one side only to jerk back when it ripped right down the middle. Joe stared at his half for a split second before something inside him broke.

No, not only did it break, but it shattered, exploded, burst into tiny, infinitesimal pieces and the last ounce of control he possessed flooded out of him. Without thinking, Joe wrapped his long fingers around Jack's neck, lifting the little bastard off his feet and squeezing. He swung Jack around until he saw a lamp-post, Joe slammed the smaller boy into it and, while holding him up with one arm, began to viciously attack the cuckoo-clock heart the little freak had. Tearing at it with his fingernails, trying desperately to crush it, rip it apart so Jack would feel every modicum of pain that was pulsing through Joe as h-

The cuckoo shot out and Joe had a moment to not even know what happened before he cried out, clutching his face and staggering away from Jack, his eye . . . what had happened?

Joe leaned against a tree as the pain got worse with every moment and soon liquid was seeping from under his hand, he fell to his knees and screamed in pain, then he fell onto his side and passed into the darkness.

* * *

Joe opened his eyes, well, his _eye_ blearily and blinked around the room, it was his room . . . he was home, and there in the corner, by the small lit fireplace, was his mother, sobbing into a handkerchief. Joe grimaced and looked away from her, he had no fondness for his mother . . . she hardly spoke to him and she never intervened when Father's belt was brought down on Joe. She might have once been lovely and kind, but now she was bent from shying away from her husband, and she was wan from years of tears and fear.

Joe could only feel loathing toward her and since she had no warmth left for him, there really was not much to say of her.

Close to his bedside, however, was his father.

Joe tensed instantly, he stared up at the man and swallowed, waiting for something to happen, but Alistair simply stared at him with an oddly neutral look on his face. Joe slowly sat up, grimacing as his head swam and his left eye throbbed sickeningly.

"They removed it, if yer wondering."

Joe blinked, "W . . . what?"

"Yer eye. They removed it. Not much left of it."

Joe stared at his father, not certain if he was going to be beaten or if his father was going to move at all.

"They told me a boy stabbed ya from school. I sent the police after him." Alistair straightened and turned to leave.

"You . . . you did?" Joe blinked at his father in confusion.

Alistair didn't reply and left the room, Joe's mother scurrying to follow after her husband, her body quaking with sobs and tears but Joe could not even begin to imagine who or what they were for, she'd never even twitched an eyelash over him before.

* * *

Joe had to relearn things. Doing anything with one eye proved incredibly difficult when you were used to doing them with two.

Walking. A nuisance when you couldn't tell how far away something was.

Eating. Always misjudged the distance and his left hand would fumble and knock things over.

Reading. Headaches came after only a few minutes as his eye unfocused and drifted with the strain.

Joe might have howled with frustration every time he stumbled into something or missed a step, every time he upset his glass at dinner or dropped something. And the throbbing in his empty socket was only matched by the painful throbbing in his heart.

He _might _have howled, but he didn't, not with his father's eyes trained on him every moment as he struggled and fumbled and tripped and stumbled. Joe had to bite his tongue and the inside of his cheek just to hold back sobs of frustration and gasps of pain, his father had gotten enough satisfaction at Joe's expense . . . not this time.

Joe staggered his way toward regaining the rigid, confident and arrogant posture he'd prided himself in. He walked once more with his head high as he stared down his nose at others, his look even more menacing with an eyepatch covering the unoccupied hollow where his left eye once resided.

He was once more who he had been and he maintained this all day until he returned to his room. Once there, he would curl up on his bed, bury his face into his pillow, and cry and these times were worse than before, these times he didn't have Acacia's little notes or postcard to press to his lips or those reassuring words that he would read again and again until he could close his eyes and still see them as if they were written on the inside of his eyelids. Now he was truly and utterly alone and inside his broken heart grew cold and icy, not with bitterness or anger, no this was a different kind of cold, this was loneliness . . . once more Joe was _lonely_.

It took Joe a very long time to recover but when he heard that Jack was no longer in Edinburgh, he knew that there was only one place that Jack would go. The little meddling bastard would go right for her.

From the very last postcards and letters Joe had also known where she was, but to go after her was out of the question, she was still in danger without the proper papers and if Joe were to attempt to procure them, his father would know and then he might never see or hear from her again.

"She's still mine." Joe murmured as a plan started to hatch in his clever mind, "I will claim her . . . I will expose Jack and I will have what is mine. She must still love me, she simply . . . forgot the date."

* * *

Joe was starting right for the door only to be grabbed by the arm, he froze and looked slowly around him and up at his father,

"Father."

"Where are you going?" Alistair said quietly, his eyes unreadable.

" . . . I'm going after him . . . and her." Joe said softly, looking the man in the eye with his singular ocular.

Alistair said nothing for a moment, his craggy face seemed to melt slightly, not into any semblance of a smile or really showing any warmth but in defeat. He released his hold on Joe's arm and stepped back,

"I hope ya know what yer doin', Joseph. Ya lost one eye over this girl, don' lose yer head as well."

Joe blinked slowly up at his father and felt his heart throb, Alistair was letting him go. Alistair was letting Joe go to find his love, the same one that Alistair had had driven from this city.

Joe turned back to the door and hurried out before his father could change his mind.

* * *

The ride was long and bumpy and quiet. Joe didn't wish for chatter or noise, he wanted his thoughts gathered and ready to present to his love, to tell her what Jack really was, to defend his love against such things and . . . to take her home.

Joe clutched at his chest and breathed in slowly, they were almost there.

Joe's carriage pulled into the carnival right as his Miss Acacia was singing, he calmly left the vehicle but didn't go any closer when he saw Jack standing there, his eyes riveted on the tiny singer.

The dark-haired young man could barely contain his conflicting emotions, on one side was his hatred of Jack but the other burned with his love for Acacia, he longed for her to remind him of the days he was allowed sunshine and peace. But Joe was patient, he would wait until the crowd dispersed so that he could go to her.

* * *

"Joe? What on Earth brings you here?"

Joe swallowed, "Oh, well, I always wanted to see Andalusia one day."

"Huh."

Joe blinked as she just turned and went back into her wagon. That was all? No, 'hello' or 'I missed you'? No 'I love you'? He would have even settled for 'how are you?' or 'sorry I forgot your birthday this year' . . . nothing? Nothing at all?

He stood there for a moment, not sure what he should do before moving up the stairs, "And, given that I kept all the birthday cards you'd sent me, I said to myself, 'why don't I drop in on my Miss Acacia? And with a bit of luck, I might get to hear her sing."  
"That's sweet of you."

Joe's heart throbbed again, that's all? Not even a hug? No 'thank you' for the flowers or for traveling all the way out here to Spain just for part of a song? He swallowed, not comprehending where this sudden frigidity was coming from, what was going on? She'd used to hug him, kiss him, tell him she loved him. Where had all that warmth gone? Had . . . Had she used it up? Had he taken all she had to give? Was there nothing left for Joe? Just like his mother and his father who wouldn't spare him a passing glance or, in his father's case, only a bruising hit?

Joe looked at the suitcase whilst trying to hold in his hurt, "You're packing up here?"

"Yes. I was reunited with the boy I loved when I was little, Jack. We leave after the show."

Joe stood in Miss Acacia's wagon feeling like a fool as he held the bouquet he'd gotten her, the words she spoke resounding in his head, This couldn't be . . . no, this had to be a joke. Joe looked slowly down at the floor as Acacia continued to try and force the suitcase closed. He put the flowers down and, with his cold, throbbing heart, he began to lay out his plan for character assassination, telling Acacia all about that funny little ginger bastard and his freakish heart.

She listened with her amber eyes wide and brow scrunched together with concern, but Joe already knew he had her, hook, line, and sinker. She would listen to him, to his every word and she would believe him. Why wouldn't she? She and Joe had known each other for years, what did she know of Jack? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Joe related the story of losing his eye and the three rules. He told her in dark terms about why she shouldn't be with Jack.

Then she turned and stormed out, at first Joe panicked thinking he'd put it a touch too far, but then he heard her confronting Jack and he relaxed, breathing out slowly as he heard her denounce him, reject him, cast him aside.

It was even better than receiving a thousand letters from Miss Acacia.

Joe smiled to himself and stepped out from the wagon, moving toward Jack, his mind full of all the things he'd just _love _to do to this interfering menace.

Jack staggered about clutching at his heart and Joe felt his satisfaction grow, good, feel broken and hollow inside, feel cold and alone, feel helpless! Joe's eyebrows met and his eye narrowed in a scowl as all the memories came flooding back to him. He'd failed to protect his Acacia before but now he would pull her to him and under his wing, tuck her close to his heart and out of the rain. He would make sure she was happy all of her days and never would anyone ever harm her again, she would be free and safe.

His thoughts began to form into words that roiled in his head, unhindered by any force of his own, fueled by his rage and his joy and it wasn't until several words in that he realized he wasn't just thinking it, but speaking the words; monologue for his enemy, his rival, his tormentor for that is what Jack was, tormenting him with thoughts that Joe's little songbird might have flown to another nest, might just have really forgotten him,

"It's no one's fault but your own, Jack," Joe looked down at his diminutive enemy, he felt the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk for a split second, it took only a moment and a few words to throw Jack from him and to the ground, one of the hands of Jack's heart busting off.

Joe blinked then hurried to shield Acacia while Jack got back up, then he hurried her back to his carriage and toward safety.

* * *

Joe sat in the carriage, feeling better, he looked over at her and smiled a little, "Don't worry, we'll be home soon and all of this will be behind us."

"Do you think he'll get over it?"

Joe clenched his teeth, keeping his eyes on her while he related how much trouble Jack brought his own family, hoping to convince her even further that she belonged with Joe, that she would only be hurt if she continued thinking about Jack.

There was a silence then Acacia gasped and reached for the door, she said something odd about Jack's heart then hurried out.

"Wait!' Joe called and reached for her he almost had her again but another carriage sped by and kicked up dust making Joe choke and cough.

He staggered back to his own carriage to catch his breath and clear his lungs, but when he turned around, she was gone again. Joe stood there, peering into the dark wilderness and his heart constricted.

Joe made the carriage driver wait for Miss Acacia, she would come back . . . she _had _to come back. He sat on the step of the carriage until he heard someone running (rather ungainly) and panting then suddenly she was in front of him on her knees, clutching at his hands,

"Joe . . . Joe we need to hurry! Jack is on his way to Valencia, we can catch up to him and give him his key!" She gasped for breath and looked pleadingly up at Joe.

Joe blinked then quickly lifted her up and put her in the coach, he quickly got in and closed the door, glaring out the window while the carriage was back in motion. Acacia blinked her large, beautiful eyes at him and they were brimming with tears,

"Joe?"

"He already has a headstart but we'll . . . try." He murmured, holding in his own anguish as even now, Jack had her attention, certainly Acacia was Joe's . . . but her heart?

Joe quashed the thought before it could bear bitter fruit.

* * *

Once they reached the station, Acacia leaped out of the coach and right for the tracks, Joe did not try to stop her . . . what was the point? He simply stared out the window and waited for her to return for him . . . or to him . . . or to the carriage . . . or to whatever it was that she thought was worth anything here. Clearly Joe held no worth to her anymore . . . he was second best now, no longer the focus of her affections, he was now just the last poor sod to still be begging for it.

She returned not long after leaving, holding up a tiny cog, "He was here, he got on the train, we need to go!"

"You suggest we keep up with a train?" Joe asked dully.

"No, I suggest we wait for the next one!" She snapped, grabbing his wrist but Joe didn't move, "We don't have time for this!"

Joe slowly looked at her and blinked, "You go. I'll just meet you . . . in Edinburgh."

Acacia blinked then she smiled, the first smile she'd graced him with since reuniting and the pieces of Joe's heart shifted back into place a fraction,

"Thank you, Joe . . . I'll see you in Edinburgh, I promise."

And then she was gone.

Joe waited until she was out of sight before signaling the carriage to go, he didn't want to leave her on her own, but at the same time, he didn't want to go with her . . . it hurt too much to know that he was chasing her all the while she chased Jack.

* * *

. . . she didn't love him. Not now anyway. And somehow, Joe could not convince his heart of this.

He walked slowly up the drive to his home and into the door. Joe didn't make it more than a few feet before the study door opened, but he had expected it to, he slowly turned and looked at his father and for the first time since he couldn't remember when, he wasn't trembling.

Joe looked at his father and he could just barely recall a moment, so fleeting and fragile, but it was real, a moment when his father had smiled and his touch hadn't left a bruise. Joe could recall just once smiling back at that massive man and feeling safe on his lap while his father read quietly in front of fire, but all the happiness had been sapped out of Alistair Douglas, there was no reason or cause that Joe could even begin to think on, but it had gone and in its place was an ill-tempered beast with a heavy hand and stone heart, so much like Joe's own.

"Father." Joe whispered in greeting.

Alistair stood very still as he looked at his son once more with that unreadable expression, "Where is she?"

"I don't know." Joe said quietly, "Somewhere. Not here. Edinburgh? I don't know. I saw her off and that's all."

The big man blinked and stepped aside, gesturing for Joe to go in, but the young man didn't move,

"Come have a drink, Joseph." Alistair said softly, gesturing again but more emphatically.

Joe narrowed his eye but slowly went into the room, he was soon handed a tumbler of brandy and along with his father, he drank.

"I warned ya." Alistair murmured, looking off to the side.

"I know." Joe closed his eye.

"Was it another?"

"Yes."

"I thought so."

"Did you?"

"Aye, when ya didn' stay away on yer birthday like you normally were wont ta do, I knew something wasn' right." Alistair sat in his large armchair and closed his eyes, "Ya may think yer pretty sneaky, Joseph, but I can hear and see. And yer not as quiet with yer weepin' and carryin' on as ya may think."

Joe stiffened and sipped at his drink, enjoying how warm the liquor made him even as he felt a chill that was beyond the physical seep into his bones.

" . . . was she worth it?"

Joe blinked and slowly met his father's gaze,

"Yes." He whispered hoarsely and he did something that he could not remember doing willingly in front of his father, Joe cried. Without being hit or bullied, he wept long and loud and he didn't care if he was beaten . . . only, no hand or belt came down on him, no angry words or harsh laughter assailed his ears and when he finally looked up, he was astonished by his father just quietly looking back at him with a look of concern on the man's face that Joe could not recall ever seeing before.

"Ya may not believe me, boy, but my intentions were never ta hurt ya . . . I was tryin' ta protect ya from a world I know more of then you." Alistair closed his eyes, "That witch . . . Acacia, she would have ruined you . . . you'd have lost everythin' an' if there's one thing I cannot live with, it's knowin' that a child o' mine would be without."

Joe stared at his father while the man slowly got up to stoke the fire back to life, the big man knelt in front of the hearth, jabbing the embers and putting fresh tinder and fuel on it until the flames leapt up the flue almost. His father sighed heavily but didn't get back up,

"Like I said, it may be hard fer ya ta believe me . . . but I did it because I care fer ya, boy, yer my son . . . an' I work hard every day to make sure that you don' when yer my age. Pitiful excuse fer takin' away what ya loved though . . . "

Joe stood and left the room, he was not called back by his father so he did not feel compelled to do so. Instead he went up to his room and sat on his bed. If she came back, she came back and he would love her, he would love enough for both sides and everything would be fine.

Yes, he would make it work . . .

* * *

There was a small knock on the door, Joe opened it, staring nonplussed down at Miss Acacia, he opened his mouth to ask what she wanted but didn't get a sound out before she threw herself into him, sobbing as if her heart was broken and that was when Joe knew, Jack was dead.

He quickly ushered her into the house and shut the door, holding her tiny frame against his while she cried,

"There, there," He murmured, moving to sit on the stairs with her in his lap, "Shh, Acacia, I'm here . . . I've always been here."

She said nothing until the sobs stopped and she looked at Joe for a moment then she kissed him and Joe's heart ached at how desperate and sad it was, but it was something at least. Joe kissed Acacia and held her and longed for this to be real and honest, to be her choice; it was all he had ever wanted,

"You forgot me." He whispered, closing his eye and leaning his head on her shoulder, "I waited for the post and there was nothing for me . . . why?"

Acacia opened her suitcase and pulled out an envelope, "I didn't forget you Joe, I just forgot postage."

Joe's eye widened as he took the envelope, staring at it for a moment before putting it down,

"I love you, Acacia." He looked at her, begging her to respond.

But she only smiled sadly and looked away, "You're all I have now."

"I'll make sure I'm worthy of you." He mumbled, leaning his head forward and pressing into her shoulder, biting his lip slightly.

"I don't think you can be." Acacia murmured, running her fingers through Joe's black hair, "I know that what Jack said about you was true, I know you treated him poorly because he was different . . . that you were cruel and you hurt him . . . I know you Joe, I know what you're like . . . "

Joe shook his head, still pressing his forehead into her shoulder, "Please . . . he was trying to take you away . . . I only meant to scare him a little!"

"I know . . . you're jealous and controlling."

"And selfish and vengeful and cruel and a lot of other things but I would _never _hurt you!" Joe gritted his teeth, squeezing his eye shut tightly.

"But, I know you have such a capacity for good, for kindness, tenderness, love . . . They're in you, I know they are, but you don't let them out." She put her arms around his shoulders tightly, "It's . . . It's alright, Joe, I know they're there."

Joe shook his head and breathed in heavily, letting it out slowly, " . . . tell me you love me."

" . . . I love you, Joseph."

Joe nodded, "Then I will never let harm befall you and I will do everything in my power to ensure your happiness, I promise."

" . . . I suppose that will have to do." Acacia let him go and stood up, looking down at him, "I don't have many options left to me."

"I hope I am not the least attractive of those options?" Joe stood up and straightened his tails.

Acacia shook her head, "Certainly not, you're just the hardest to admit to."

"I am?"

She nodded, "Joe, I do love you, but it isn't the same as it was before . . . and I'm sorry for that because you deserve to be loved as much as possible for a human being, but I fear that me being the only one who seems to know you or your past, that seems to know how badly you need love, that I am the only one who _can_ love you. So I will, until we both perish, I will love you like I know you need."

"And I will love you as you deserve." Joe promised, taking her hand.

Maybe it wasn't a perfect love, but for Joe, it was all he wanted.

**A/N: Fin. **


End file.
